


"We'll be okay."

by aislingdoheanta



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 4x12 - Freeform, Episode Related, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingdoheanta/pseuds/aislingdoheanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey tries to help Ian on the first night. </p>
<p>Missing scene during 4x12 that takes place after Debbie and Carl see Ian and before Fiona comes over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"We'll be okay."

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been theorized that Mickey moved his pillow as close to Ian’s as he could get because he wanted to be close to him. I agreed and this is sort of what came out of that. 
> 
> Posted originally to my [tumblr. ](http://saras-almanac.tumblr.com/post/86413217014/fic-a-day-in-may-day-twenty-one)

Mickey wanted to scream as the Gallagher kids walked out. They didn’t tell him anymore than, “That’s how their mom gets sometimes” before rushing off.

He was mad that they couldn’t tell him what was really wrong with Ian. He was mad that they couldn’t fix it. He was pissed off that Ian couldn’t do anything but lay in his bed.

But he was upset more with himself that he couldn’t do anything to help Ian. He’d caused this after all.

And Svetlana’s looks of maybe pity, maybe “I told you so,” weren’t fucking helping.

Mickey glanced up and saw the cracks in the mirror. The ones he had put there one night when missing Ian became too much.

He didn’t think he could lose him again. Hell, he’d fucking come out in front of his dad, everyone, just to prove to the asshole that he cared about him.

Like it wasn’t written on his face whenever he saw Ian. Or in the desperation he clung to Ian with when they slept. Or how he’d sit at the club most nights just to make sure that he was okay and coming home.

He reached out to touch the glass— _Take your hand off the glass_ —and felt like he had shattered again. Ian had just pieced him back together for the second time since being back. And now it’s happened again. But this time, there was no Ian to help him glue the pieces together.

What if there never was again? What if this was how things were for them from now on?

_No._ Mickey clenched his fist.

It didn’t fucking matter. Ian was Ian and Mickey wasn’t going to fucking leave him now.

Mickey walked back to his room, ignoring Svetlana in the living room. He shut the door and tried to be quiet as he shrugged out of his clothes, keeping just his boxers on.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the one furthest away from Ian. “Ian?”

No response. Mickey hadn’t expected one.

“I’m sorry if I pissed you off,” he said quietly, staring down at Ian.

 “Went to the Alibi today,” he said quietly. “You know how I’d been staying with you the past couple days. How I kept us holed up in Fiona’s room at your house.” Mickey rubbed his face. “Truth is man, I was fucking scared.”

It sounded pathetic to his own ears. But whatever. Ian normally loved when Mickey would talk to him about shit.

Mickey shifted closer and reached out to place his hand on Ian’s neck.

“These guys knew my dad. They fucking drank with him. I just assumed that they’d be like him, you know?” Mickey kept threading his fingers through Ian’s hair. “They weren’t though. Fucking Kev even did a toast. To butt buddies.”

Mickey shook his head. “Fucking asshole’s what he is.”

“You know he said he wasn’t surprised? I don’t know how the fucker knew about us,” Mickey shrugged. “Don’t know why he never fucking said anything. Wish you’d been there to see it man.”

Mickey stopped tracing his finger along Ian’s shoulder and looked down at him. He really had wanted Ian there because the asshole made him braver. He hated to fucking admit it and probably wouldn’t to his face, but he did. It was like going into battle knowing you had backup.

Ian made him feel like he could face anything, like he could do anything, because Ian would be right there to fucking struggle through the fallout with him.

“Really fucking wished you’d been there.” Mickey reached out to keep touching Ian, reminding him that Mickey was still there. Maybe he was even trying to remind himself that _Ian_ was still here.

“Remember when you told me we had nothing to be ashamed of?” No response.

“I thought you were so full of shit. Thought it was your shinny Gallagher upbringing that ‘caused you to think like that.” Mickey shook his head. “Turns out you were right.”

Mickey just kept running his hands through Ian’s hair, down his side. He hoped it was comforting to him and not annoying. But Mickey figured Ian would have snapped at him by now if he really wanted Mickey to leave.

 “You want something to eat?” Mickey asked quietly a while later.

Ian just mumbled or groaned in response.

“Okay,” Mickey said, not wanting to push him. He moved his pillow close to Ian’s. He just needed the physical closeness and hoped it sort of helped Ian too. He ran his hand down Ian’s side, sort of hating that Ian wasn’t ticklish.

Ian loved that Mickey was ticklish. He’d fucking grin and just sit there, both of them knowing Ian was just waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on Mickey. He always tried to take him unawares.

“I really fucking missed you today,” Mickey said quietly, feeling the words burn in his throat. He wanted Ian to laugh and pull Mickey to him and Mickey would push him away in a half-hearted attempt. But then Mickey would sigh and _let_ Ian hold him to his chest. It made him feel comfortable, fucking safe. Made him feel cared for, wanted, maybe even loved.

Ian didn’t do that now.

But Mickey could try for Ian. He debated on whether or not to ask Ian, to tell him what he wanted to do, but that just made him feel stupid and clingy. So he just carefully shifted closer to Ian and pressed against him. He carefully wrapped an arm around Ian’s waist.

He nearly cried when Ian’s hand grabbed his. It wasn’t strong, but it was _something_. It made Mickey’s heart start beating again. It felt like he could finally breathe again because Ian wasn’t just angry with him, that he still wanted Mickey.

He knew that this wasn’t really about _Mickey_ , but his fears were still present. He wrapped his arm around Ian, keeping him close. Mickey tried to copy what Ian did for him, how Ian had held him the night he had come out. How Ian had just stayed with him, making sure Mickey knew he wasn’t alone.

He hoped Ian felt something similar now.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t even know if Ian was expecting him to talk anymore. Mickey swallowed. “You asked me once what happened to the mirror in my bathroom, you remember?”

“I said that it was an accident. But you knew that I’d done it,” Mickey said, remember how Ian had fucking kissed his knuckles like some girl. Mickey hadn’t told him how that fucking made everything better. How Ian always seemed to make Mickey feel better.

“I fucking missed you, man,” Mickey whispered to Ian’s back. He couldn’t get the rest of the words out. He couldn’t fucking tell Ian just how much he’d missed him, how much he ached without him. How he’d felt like some huge part of him had been missing, like his lungs or heart or his fucking arm.

And it killed Mickey because he’d been _trying_ since Ian came back. He’d been trying so hard to give Ian what he wanted because it was the only way Mickey knew how to explain to Ian, to show Ian how much he didn’t want him to leave again.

He pressed his lips against Ian’s neck and shoulder and just breathed for a few minutes, his lips still against Ian’s skin.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered. “We’ll be okay.”

He just wished he knew which one of them he wanted to believe it more.

 


End file.
